A Mess of Magic
by Morbid DramaQueen10
Summary: "How was I supposed to know that he meant it? That when he said he'd turn the world upside down for me, that he really would? It was a game. Yet, one with serious consequences. But hadn't he mocked me enough, smirked enough, to have convinced me of the playful nature of my quest?" There is a mess of magic on Sarah's university campus. And only one fae to turn to. S/J Oneshot.


How was I supposed to know that he meant it? That when he said he'd turn the world upside down for me, that he really would?

It was a game. Just a game. A dangerous game, with serious consequences. But still a game. We both knew it, or I thought we did. Hadn't he mocked me enough, smirked enough, to have convinced me of the playful nature of my quest?

Apparently not. Because now I have made yet another serious mistake. There's some sort of lack of communication here, right? I mean, it can't all be me. He has to take some blame off my plate. Instead, he's just piling more on, like an over-excited grandma at Thanksgiving. As strong as the china is, it does have a breaking point. Mine is just about there.

There comes a point in the game of chess, when you look at your opponent, really look at them. Eyes met, breath catches in that cavity of flesh called lungs and there becomes a startling knowing, a sense of comprehension between you. One of you will end the game a champion, until the next challenge. The other must suffer as the defeated, the "loser". In that moment, when you look at the adversary, you know who will leave the table under each title.

I had one of those moments in the Labyrinth. I knew I would return victorious. And yet…and yet now, today, I cannot tell you if I was on the winning team or the losing one.

Though I swore to never say it again, only one thing can be said of this situation:

"It's not fair!"

Jareth moved from the shadow, fluid in every motion. "That is certainly true." His predatory smile reminded me of a vampire I once saw in a movie as a child. Chilling, heartless, handsome. "But, my dear, when is anything fair?"

**-XXX-**

At the age of 15, I was bratty, average, and more than a bit of a dreamer. Anyone can agree with that. But like every child, I grew out of it - or, so I like to think. Experiences of the up most unpleasant nature forced me to, and not a moment too soon, either. I learned to negotiate with my stepmother, make friends, and treat life like a time bomb.

But eventually, I relaxed. I let my guard down, stopped being so wary. I ate peaches again, wore white, and no longer steered clear of psychic shops for fear of crystal balls. Life _happened. _High school came and went. I applied for a good number of universities, then selected a private liberal arts school approximately three hours away from home. Working towards a theater and literature degree, with an art history minor, I live for the arts.

Nothing – nothing – in my life was supernatural. I held onto a love of fantasy, yes, but I've let go of wishful daydreams. In fact, I avoided the term "_I wish" _for years. While I painted oils of castles and fairies, playacted magnificent magical beings, analyzed tales of fantasy or myths in long lit papers. But my life was perfectly, gloriously ordinary. Void of magic.

Excepting the magic mirror.

Occasionally, I still visit with my Labyrinth friends through mirrors. Though, since coming to college, those visits had become far and few between – dorms just don't lend themselves to private calls for magical underground worlds. Even when I got my own house, we just didn't talks as much. And besides, the conversation has become…well…immature.

At twenty, they'd become less than novelties. Still dear to me, yes. But far too…young for my tastes. They were, by nature, simpler creatures. So they didn't quite "get" the horrors of blind dates, term papers, or late bills. Still, I loved them and cherished our few moments together.

Mirror aside, everything was normal. I was just regular Sarah Williams, working towards an undergrad degree. Nothing out of the ordinary for me.

And that, folks, was the way I liked it.

**-XXX-**

_"Normal" _promptly stopped being a part of my life at approximately 3:50 pm in the middle of my Prehistoric European Arts class. Dr. Deveroux was in the midst of a less-than-spine-tingling lecture on differentiation of methods of painting during the Iron and Bronze Ages when tulips began sprouting from his skull, through the scant patch of hair clinging to the shiny scalp.

From the fifth row, I blinked. Once, twice. On the third time it finally sunk in. Beside me, students were shifting. One girl's mouth fell open completely, and she raised a finger to point. A few boys snickered. Deveroux, though, fiddling with the projector, failed to notice. No one panicked, really, assuming it was some kind of joke.

Finally, when he reached up to scratch, the professor paused. Feeling the leaves, stem, and finally, blossom (which was a wild shade of passion pink), he stood stalk-still. Then, without so much as a _"class dismissed," _he fainted onto the industrial carpet.

Within the hour, other students reported a similar occurrence over the social media outlets, claiming a sculpting professor suffered from a similar growth, only instead of tulips it was daisies. Over the next week, several staff members throughout campus grew flowers, species ranging from roses to violets to foxgloves or daffodils. They would typically freak, then be escorted to campus health services, where a kind – and brave – nurse would clip off the offending flowers. They

This was enough to bother me significantly. But I didn't think much of it. Even when, five days later, my roommate came to me holding the bin we used to keep tea bags, proclaiming it was now full of thimbles, I just assumed someone had stolen them as a joke, and walked down to the market for more Earl Grey. When, the following Saturday, the cat woke me signing Pagliacci, I listened for a few dazed minutes, then fell back asleep, mistaking it for a dream. It was only after Anna mentioned hearing opera from my room at five in the morning that I even considered the possibility. The library encountered some issues, too – books, that took to wandering about, mixing up locations. It became quite a problem as end-of-term drew near. Over the next month, bowls of soup turned to tadpoles, stones took on eyes, classmates found their hair changing colour, and my door began greeting me.

I tried my very hardest to ignore all of these things. But no avail. The magic was all around me. The only question was why?

**-XXX-**

"Hoggle? Hoggle?" I stared into the hand mirror. The bathroom was occupied at the moment by my roommate, so I was reduced to using a small mirror. "Sir Didymus? Ludo? Hello? Anyone there?"

No such luck. The line was silent. I was left peering into my own reflection, rather than the faces of my three friends. Frustrated, I replace the mirror on the desk. All day I've waited for the chance to see them. I finally felt the pressing need to inquire after the randomly magical accidents occurring 'round campus. While I didn't hold out much hope for their help, they're more qualified than most to give advice on those things most magical. And, for whatever cause, they're unavailable. _"Typical." _I lean back in my chair. A stray thought, a sinister thought, struck me. _"But surely not-" _

I hated to think the Goblin King had anything to do with their mysterious inability to communicate. I want nothing more to do with him, not if it could be helped. However…if these odd misfortunes and weirdly animated objects or creatures continued, I might be resolved to ask him for insight. The thought sent a shudder through me. Unlike my other Labyrinth friends, the king I'd not seen since my run – and that was not through some effort. According to Hoggle, he – the king – had been rather keen on visiting me once or twice through the years. But out-loud reminders of _"No Power Over Me"_ whenever I got that familiar prickly feeling running down my spine seemed to ward him away.

Calling upon him is not something I wanted to do. I lift the mirror.

"Hoggle?"

Again, nothing but my own face looks back at me.

**-XXX-**

Another week of oddities passed. It took an alteration in Friday night take-out and movie tradition to convince me something needed to be done. My roommate and I have a long-standing tradition of ordering Chinese and watching a rented movie – usually something black and white, or a romantic comedy. On this particular Friday, we'd popped in _P.S. I Love You _(another funny-sad flick to follow up last week's _The Time Traveler's Wife)_ and were waiting for the food. As usual, we ordered at 7:00, put the movie in at 7:05, and expected the delivery around 7:30-7:45.

But 7:45 came and went without the bell ringing once. The delivery boy was late. At 7:50, I took to glancing at the window every ten seconds or so. At 7:55, we called the restaurant. Mrs. Lee answered. I explained the situation, and she told me the guy had left around 7:20. She had no clue why he was late.

"Give him another ten minutes," she told me, voice slightly muffled by the _"ding" _of a register. "You never know with traffic."

Finally, at 8:15, I decided I'd just drive down to the restaurant myself, get our food (and hopefully a hefty discount) and continue our night. We paused the movie while I slipped on my coat. Anna poured herself another glass of wine, calling out from the kitchen, "And make sure they throw in the fortune cookies free!"

I opened the door, preparing to step out when I stopped short.

Our food sat on the concrete stoop along with a pile of clothes. I blinked. Shutting the door behind me, I bent down to examine the clothing. Jeans, a white shirt, black sweatshirt, and the _Yen's Golden Dragon _baseball cap lay haphazardly. I recognized a black zip bag sitting next to one of the brown paper bags as the same one the delivery guys used to collect checks or cash, the same ones they gave us change from. _"The hell-?" _Had the guy dropped off the dim sum then abandoned his clothes too? I looked around for a car. What I spot instead is a green moped with a front basket, sitting against our fence.

When I shifted closer, the hat wiggled. Yelping, I scrambled back, falling on my ass. It moved again, nudging forward. With extreme caution, I lifted the brim.

A small, moss-coloured frog blinked up at me. I gaped back in return. "_No!"_ Some how, the weird magic had affected the delivery boy, turning him into an amphibian. Now free of the hat, the little fellow hops forward, nearing my foot. He looks up again. Cursing under my breath, I scooped up the frog, the bags of food, and kicked the clothes off into the bushes.

Once inside, I deposited the food onto the breakfast bar. From her spot on the couch, Anna glanced up from her phone, surprised. "Back already?"

"Uh, yeah," I stammered. "Met him in the drive."

"Oh." Her eyes brighten. "Did you get the discount?"

"Oh…nah," I said, waving a hand. I could feel the frog wriggling in my jacket pocket. "Poor guy had been through hell trying to get here. I figured I'd give him the break."

"Okay…hey." She sat up. "Are you coming back? I paused the movie!"

"Yeah, yeah," I assured her. "I got a text from Dad. Toby needs help on some project. I'm just going to give him a quick call. Go ahead and start the movie again, I'll be back in a few. I've already seen it, anyways."

Without another word, I ducked into my room. Once the door was shut I removed the frog from my pocket, setting him on my bedspread. I flick on a lamp, remove my jacket, then round to face the creature. For a full minute we stared at each other. Then, I sunk to the floor with a heavy sigh. Clearly, the fellow needs to be turned back, and soon. Unfortunately, I don't have that power. But I know someone who does.

I had not wanted to resort to this. But I was left with no choice.

Briefly, I considered simply letting it go. Why should I have to deal with the delivery boy who'd turned himself into a frog? I could turn him our into the yard, burn the clothes, and dump the moped. It would be easy.

_ "But not right." _And not me.

Shutting my eyes tightly, I thought of a singular phrase. _"Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you maybe, please come help me." _

"You know," a voice drawled from the window. "I do have a name."

Gasping slightly, I whipped 'round to face the menace of my nightmares.

He stood – or, rather, loomed – near my curtains, wearing the same blue-black costume he'd don to kidnap my baby brother. The swirling cloak and heavy leather added to the intimidating effect. Little had altered since I was fifteen. We were closer to eye level, I realized, when I rose up from the carpet. His hair had grown tamer, less teased, and now fell in looser layers. I wondered if that as a result of the times, or simply his own preference. An abundance of glitter once again littered the floor, but I choose to ignore that in favor of meeting his mismatched eyes.

As a child, the only being I saw with incompatible pupils were portrayed as crazies. Which lead me to wonder….

"Jareth," he said, baring his flashing teeth in something of a smile.

I stared, eyes wide.

The Goblin King's smile faltered. "You may call me Jareth."

My vocal cord appeared to have stopped functioning. A frown settled in on the king's face. A long, awkward pause follows.

Finally, the king spoke. "Did you…call upon me, m'lady?"

"Uh. Yeah."

When I don't continue, he sighed, moving forward. "You require…aid?" He stopped short before me, eyebrows raised. "Sarah?"

I jolt when a gloved hand touched mine. Shock being shocked out of me, I straighten. "There is magic here," I spat. "And it's starting to hurt people. Is this your doing?"

The king stopped. "My doing?" Then, he laughed. Laughed loudly. I scurried to shush him, lest Anna heard.

"She will not hear," he assured me. "We are very safe."

The use of those particular words – _"'Safe' from what?" _– does not reassure me in the least. "If it's not you, then who? And can you make it stop? Crazy things are happening, Goblin King, I can't sit by if I know something can be done!"

"Oh, something can be done, alright," the king replied, chuckling. "But not by I."

"Then who?" I asked, desperate.

He gazed down on me, eye impassive. "Sarah. I come here, after nearly six years since our last meeting, and you don't even have the courtesy to greet me civilly, offer me any comfort, or even speak reasonably. You simply demand…always demanding! Have I not been generous enough?"

I gaped. "_What? _You think after our _encounter _I should…what, offer you a chair? Make you a drink? Ask how things have been?"

The king sniffed. "It's called civility, Sarah, and I think you'd benefit from it."

"I need _help. _Not even help for my sake, but for other people. Weird things are happening here, and people are really starting to be affected. I need someone with an understanding of magic."

He snorted. "Because that's exactly what you've been lacking. An understanding of magic."

My shoulders sagged. "Basically. Yeah."

Again, he shifted closer. I can feel his heat against me. Breath on face. "At what price, Sarah, would you gain that understanding?"

"What?" I glared up, ignoring the fluttering sensation in my chest that only served grow when he moved nearer still.

"I asked, Sarah, what you would pay to understand?"

I shook my head. "That's not what I need."

"Is it?"

Sighing, the king placed his hands on my shoulders. "Always so stubborn. It's charming, you know, to some extent. Now. Why don't we start again properly? Hello, Sarah. How are you?"

Growling, I throw his hands off of me. He'd gotten too close for comfort. "I don't have time for this!" I exclaimed, turning away, hugging myself.

"Ah, ah, ah." He lifts a hand. "Come now, Sarah. Play with me, and all shall be resolved."

I still refused to fully face him. "But I thought you said you couldn't—"

"It shall be resolved," he promises, cutting across me.

Slowly, I turned. He offered a peaceful hand, open before him, eyes clear and bright. There was no malice in his face. And so, with great wariness, I place my fingers in his palm. His own fingers tighten 'round them, squeezing tightly. A slim smile cuts his features.

"Hello…Jareth."

**-XXX-**

Next thing I knew – of course, _of course _– I find myself in the throne room of the castle at the center of the Labyrinth, in the Goblin City. It's as dark and impressive as always, the Esher-style stairs framing the room. I remembered the poster, once hanging in my bedroom at my parent's house; after the events of my fifteenth year, I'd shoved the thing into the attic, along with my music box and other fantasy items. The toys had gone to Toby. But the room of a thousand stairs disappeared, like many things reminding me of the Labyrinth. Soon, it had become practically nothing more than a dream.

And now, here I was, in the midst of a nightmare. My hand was still in Jareth's hold. And his grip was even tighter. He is, again, impassive.

"Oh," I gasped, pulling away frantically. "You! _You rat! _You said – oh, you rat!"

He rolled his eyes. "I said it would be resolved, Sarah. The first step is getting you out of that place."

"Oh, and that's supposed to help?!" I finally succeeded in yanking my limb from his grasp, stumbling backwards. "To think I trusted you, for even a minute –"

The Goblin King crossed to this throne, settling down, cloak swirling around him gracefully. "You still don't understand," he sighs. "You don't see what's causing all of it. The flowers from the head. Singing cats. Delivery boys turning into frogs…."

I open my mouth, but then felt movement in my pocket. It's the delivery guy, wriggling. I paused. "You…you've seen it? All of it?"

Jareth inclined his head. "Of course. I see all that you do, Sarah. And when you university began enduring such strange occurrences…well, I watched all the closer."

"And you didn't think to do anything?"

He smiled slowly. Then, continuing, he said, "Of course, I've known for a while now, what was going to happen. It's been in the works for years. A pot, set to boil, about to blow steam and throw off it's own lid. It's not the pots fault…but still."

"Who is the pot in this situation?"

He didn't answer, tilting his head. I growled, coming forward. Before the throne was a pit-like descent. It was scattered with chicken feathers, hay, and an empty tankard or two, looking perhaps like an abandoned fire pit. I sink down directly across from the Goblin King, crossing my legs. He peered at me, amused. I scowled back.

"What is this?" I asked. "A playpen for those you kidnap?"

His smile was pleasant. "Why yes. Excepting those who are a little more…adult." Jareth looks down at me pointedly. "Yet they still seem to migrate towards it."

"You seriously have a pit for keeping these children?" I asked, incredulous. "A child-keeping-pit?"

"Oh, come now," he replied lazily. "I need somewhere to keep them. And the goblins do a fine job of babysitting. Both parties have a good deal of fun, I assure you."

"There isn't a nursery, or anything?"

"Of course. But that comes after the thirteen hours."

I blinked. "Do people…not win often?"

For a moment, Jareth stared at me in complete silence. Then, he abruptly tossed back his head, howling with laughter. Clutching his ribs, the king bucked with merriment – at my expense – before finally straightening himself to composure. Tilting back, throwing his legs over the arm of the throne, Jareth said, "Oh, my dear. You are the first successful runner is nearly five hundred years."

"Oh. Wow." Hoggle and Sir Didymus never told me that. "Nobody else has…but what happens to the kids?"

Jareth snapped his fingers, and my hands wee suddenly balancing an orb. Within the picture, I saw a small cottage. In the orb a dwarf man approached, holding a bundle out to his wife. The next scene showed the tiny woman spoon-feeding a human baby in the interior of the cottage, the whole family sitting by a fire. It fast forward a few years to show a ten-to-twelve-year-old boy with sandy blond hair working alongside his adoptive father in an apple orchard. Next he's around seventeen, and dancing in a barn with a pretty young woman near his age. There were several humans milling about, but far more dwaves and goblins.

"What is this?"

"A life," he said softly. "They don't merely disappear, Sarah. I give them to families, loving people who want children. And they're not alone – not with the other human children here." His eyes took on an intense quality. "They are far happier and healthier here than they would've been in your world. These were children wished away by parents, grandparents, guardians. What kind of life would they have had there, with family like that?"

I shook my head. "Not Toby."

His eyes soften. "No, not Toby. Toby has a good life – just a very dramatic sister." The king smiled lightly. "It was because Toby's quality of life in your world would have equaled or surpassed any I might've given him here that you won. Of course, your own astute nature can be attributed as well. But Toby's happiness was a factor."

For a long time we sat watching one another. I couldn't keep my eyes on his for too long, however, and soon looked away to examine his throne. When he rose, coming forward to stand before the pit, I shifted in surprise. His mismatched eyes flash, curve of a smile claiming thin lips. He gestured. I nodded slowly. Then, he sat.

I was a little caught off guard.

Without any attempt to mask his rudeness, Jareth inspected me. Not an inch went unlooked. Uncomfortable, I bit my lip. He met my eyes, grinning.

"You'll have to forgive me," he drawled. "It's been along time since I've had the opportunity to see you live. In the flesh."

The word _"flesh" _is said with such delicacy, that shivers trickle down my spine, like icy, long-nailed fingers trailing across the skin.

"Through no hard effort," I mumbled, thinking of Hoggle's warnings to ward off the king. "You, know, I'll need to get back soon. My roommate thinks I'm helping Toby with homework, if I'm not back soon she'll freak."

"Oh," he said, waving a gloved hand carelessly. "No, she'll not take notice. Because, at the moment, you're already in the living room, starting on your orange chicken and watching the movie. She's a little too busy with her cellular device to notice you're only moving the food around, but it's convincing enough."

"You sent her a decoy?!"

"We needed to talk."

I crossed my arms. "Okay, Jareth, I said I'd play. Why am I here? Who is the pot in this situation?"

He hesitated. I waited, though with little patience. Finally, he managed to speak, slowly. "Why Sarah…it's you."

**-XXXX-**

There are distinct moments throughout a person's life where it feels like the world halts. It just stands still, centered around a single second of impact. Shock, I suppose.

This was one of those moments.

_"What?" _

The thing was, I still didn't understand. I didn't _get _it. All I knew was that I was the pot – a cause to the effect. But I didn't know how.

I thought being a pot was bad. But then it got worse.

"You're the source, Sarah," he said, eyes dark. "It's all coming from you. Not your fault, of course, you couldn't realize."

"Couldn't realize what?" I was floored. "How can this be me? I couldn't even – I can't –"

Pity floods Jareth's tone. "Of course you couldn't know."

"Know _what?" _

"Sarah." My name was very pronounced. "Sarah, it's your magic. Your magic is out-of-control."

My chest ached. I shook. "My – my magic?"

"You must've gotten it from your time in the Labyrinth. That can happen, sometimes. I don't know why it's only come forth now, but…here we are. You've been gifted."

"No. No, I've been…." _"Cursed," _my mind whispered. "Oh…" My fist clenched. The room spun as my nails dug into my flesh. "Oh my…."

Somehow, my hands were in his. Jareth is standing before me, clutching my hands with one of his, using the other to cup my jaw, forcing me to meet his gaze. Beneath us, the very foundations of the building seemed to shake – but surely that was just me. Just my silly head. The shock.

"Focus, Sarah," he crooned. "Sarah, I need you to calm yourself. Come now, come now…look at me. Look here. Into my eyes. Please calm down."

I gasped, shaking my head. "N-n-no, I –"

The room shook more. A distinct creaking echoed through the chamber.

A hand rose to stroke my face, my hair, my temples. It stayed against my cheek. Under his breath, he murmured gentle words. "Sarah, Sarah, please calm." The hand holding mine tightened. "Foolish girl," he said, a key of desperation in his voice. "Look at me. Calm down."

Eventually, I relaxed, sagging against the stone. My lungs ached, though, and I gasped for desperate breaths. The room stopped shaking. But there was a ringing throughout the castle for nearly two minutes afterwards.

Jareth, too, had relaxed, slumping forward from his crouched position before me. Head on my shoulder, he breathed heavily. I put a hand to the back of his skull, stroking the silky blond stands that fell passed his neck. For a long moment we sat, then Jareth began laughing, first quietly, then with great gusto. I didn't find much funny in the situation, however. Crumbling castles weren't funny business to me.

"Foolish girl," he repeated fondly. "That was the second time you nearly took down my castle."

"No thanks to you."

"Ah, come now." It was the barest of scoldings, as he's in such a merry mood. The mild admonishment continues. "You had to know. I'm surprised you had not suspected."

He shifted, pausing before cupping my cheek again. Had I the energy, I'd remove the limb, but the fingers skirting my cheek felt good. As does the warmth. It was surprisingly warm through all of that leather.

"So…what happens now?"

Jareth sighed. "Oh, can't we just have a moment?"

At that I laughed. "Just doing this? I do have a bit of a crisis, you know. Frog delivery men, singing cats."

"Hm," He considered. "Well, I'd much prefer this –"

And at that, he rose forward to kiss me. The other hand came up to cup my other cheek. I gasped into the kiss, at which Jareth took the opportunity to deepen it, his lips battling mine until I grant his tongue entry. My arms went around his neck, pulling him close. When he began pressing open-mouthed kisses into my neck, I sighed, eye fluttering –

"Oh. My. God. Really, Jareth?" I shrieked, tumbling off the massive four-poster bed we'd transported to, tumbling away from him, pushing back the curtains attached to the canopy, revealing the huge royal apartments. This was clearly the king's bedroom.

The Goblin King blinked, sitting up. After a second of collecting himself, he grinned. "Oh, this was not I, dear-heart."

"But I didn't –"

"Ah, but you did." His smile was mischievous. "My, my. I wouldn't have guess it of you, Williams. Rather bold, aren't we?"

Scowling, I turned away. "Oh, this is ridiculous. Jareth, I need to go…please, help me. I've got to stop this." From my pocket, I felt a wriggle.

Sighing, the king removed himself from the bed. "Very well. I shall clean up your mess. However," he continued, eyes alight. "They'll just keep happening, unless you learn how to control your magic."

"Magic _your _Labyrinth gave me."

"Do you want my help?" He raised a brow.

"_Yes," _I sighed.

"Good." He smiled slowly. "Then I shall require twice-weekly visits for your magic lessons."

"What?" My jaw went slack. "Can't you just…bottle it up? Put a cork on it? Suck it out of me."

"Tsk. Sarah. This is a gift. Besides, even if I could remove it, why would I? My Labyrinth's queen would be far better off with magical ability. We'll discuss payment later."

"What? Your _queen –" _

"I'll see you next Tuesday," he assured me, winking. "And, if I were you, I'd take that frog outside to his clothes before you change him. And, for God's sake, pay the poor boy double."

We were in my bedroom. I open my mouth to protest, whipping 'round at the sound of Anna's familiar laugh. When I turn back, he's gone. My curtains drift lightly in the evening breeze. I crossed to shut the window. Sitting on the sill is a small roll of parchment. I unscroll it warily.

"_Lesson I: Animal-Human Transfiguration_

_ Step I: Concentrating on your creature…." _

It took a few minutes, but soon the young man stood before me, buck naked and completely freaked.

"Don't tell _anyone," _I stressed as I shoved the thirty dollars into his palms before sending him out of my window.

A little while later, I padded down the hall to find Anna half-asleep before the TV. She shifted, sitting up upon seeing me. "Hey, you okay? You were in the bathroom a long time."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," I assured her. "Let's finish the movie…."

**-XXX-**

Though I swore to never say it again, only one thing can be said of this situation:

"It's not fair!"

Jareth moved from the shadow, fluid in every motion. "That is certainly true." His predatory smile reminded me of a vampire I once saw in a movie as a child. Chilling, heartless, handsome. "But, my dear, when is anything fair?"

"Yeah, when?" I mumbled, kicking the corner of his throne. "Between the unwanted magic, unwanted engagement, and stupid lessons, when is anything fair?"

"Ah, ah, let's not forget the ring." Somehow he'd sidled up behind me, slipping arms around my waist.

Of course. How could I forget the ring? The delicate white gold weaving, the scatter of diamond, then the green center stone. _"To match your eyes," _he'd said, nearly making me gag from sheer romance.

"Now," he instructed seriously. "Try that again."

Sighing heavily, I raised my hands, splaying my fingers and concentrating to call forth energy. Once it had accumulated, I compressed it between my palms. Pulling one hand away, I revealed the small violet flower sitting in the middle of my palm. I laughed. "Haha, lovely."

"Very good." I could feel Jareth smile against my hair. "Again. This time…let me focus on the image. You conjure it."

I didn't protest. Though, the two-person conjuring seemed easier at first, I quickly realized it's inherently harder to work with two conscious.

His lips found my ear. "Concentrate," he sang.

"I am," I whisper back.

When I felt the warmth in my palm, I opened my eyes, pulling back the topmost hand.

"Oh!"

It was a key. Gold, with scrolling details. Heavy and old. I picked it up, frowning, and turned to Jareth. The metal was hot in my hand. When I looked down, it glowed faintly. "What's this to?"

"Who says it goes to anything?" His tone had a tug of annoyance, but there was a distinct smile upon his lips.

"You, you horrible liar."

"It is," he drawled. "A key to your closet."

The impact of his words were, sadly, minimal. Not even a hint of climax. I blinked. "My…closet?" _"But it doesn't even have a lock!" _I thought, perturbed.

"Yes. You see, when you turn it, your closet will stop being a closet."

"Oh," I said, playing along. "And then what will it be?"

"Then, my dear," he replied, lips against my ear. "It shall be a passage to my room."

I was still. "Perv."

He laughed from deep in his belly. "Not what you think, Sarah. I am merely suggesting you come visit me, from time to time. Outside of your lessons."

"Can't I use it to come to my lessons?"

"Oh, no," he said vaguely. "I'd much prefer to escort you."

"No, you mean you much prefer to see me queasy and stumbling and leaning against you for support."

Jareth just chuckled. "You can come any time you wish. No more mirrors."

I turned in the circle of his arms, smiling up. "Uh-huh. No ulterior motives?"

"Perhaps," he admitted, teeth gleaming. "Now what do you say?"

"Thank you?"

He kissed my nose, dipping me low. I giggled, and it sounded girlish, almost unnatural to me. Try as I might, being with Jareth made me _happy. _Happy in a way I couldn't even resent. He made me glow – which was some feat. According to Anna, I'd taken to whistling through our house, humming too, and would, every so often, sigh in the most heart-filled way. "You've got it bad," she told me. "So who's the fella? C'mon Sarah, tell me about your boy-friend."

But _"boyfriend" _felt like a very out-of-place term for Jareth. According to him, we were quite engaged. I wouldn't have gone that far, but we were rather…attached. Clearly we were enough so he'd felt the need to give me a key to his place – a pretty big move. Especially considering we're only two months into…whatever this was. I decided not to comment, but rather, commenced with the kissing.

When we finally pulled apart, both in need of air, Jareth turned me around again, so my back was against his chest. He let one hand sit around my waist while another migrated along my arm to rest on the top of my left hand. He fiddled with my ring, outlining the center stone. Every so often he'd do that, as if to remind himself. Putting on my hand quite pleased him. I'd not protested, but rolled my eyes heavily and pointedly told him I was in no way agreeing to this commitment. He could put as much jewelry on me as he wished, but it wasn't a promise I was ready to make.

"That's perfectly fine, precious," he had said innocently. "I just like leaving you with a…ah, reminder."

Like I could forget.

While we stood together, Jareth hummed. He was, I discovered, no part-time musician. Singing was very central to his life. After a few seconds, I recognized the song from the ballroom – the one about worlds falling down, Valentine evenings, and what not. I leaned in, closing my eyes to listen.

"I remember this one," I murmured.

"Oh?"

"Yes. You sang it in the crystal ballroom…while I was looking for Toby…after Hoggle gave me that drugged peach."

"Ah. I didn't think you'd remembered."

"Of course I did."

"I wrote it for you, you know."

"Did you? Mmmm, that's pretty."

Again, in my ear, Jareth whispered. "I'd do all of those things, too. Until the world fell down."

I was silent. He squeezed me, then resumed his humming. The promises song turned into a mournful Irish ballad I recognized, which gave me the change to hum along. We finished, and Jareth kissed my neck.

"Time to go?" I asked.

"You know," he said, releasing me, spinning me to face him. "You are always welcome to stay. To stay here and never return to that place. I think I have room to spare in my bed." He leered.

"I would," I promised. "But I can't. School. Degrees. College. Future careers at stake. You know."

"Oh, stay here and you needn't worry about any of that," he scoffed. "Your career is already set, here. Queen of the Goblins. Consort to Jareth, the Goblin King."

Mockingly, I winced. "Yeah, we've still got to talk about that. But hey, I've got to go."

"Ah," Jareth sighed. "You wound me with your uncertainty."

I kissed his cheek, inhaling his hot, spicy scent before tugging away. "Next week. Transmuting, right?"

"Unless you use your key," he reminded me. "Here, this might help." Wiggling his fingers over the key, the air sparked and I was left clutching the same key, only now it was attached to a thin gold chain.

"One of my great-aunt's," he said, winking. "So do be careful with it. Good night, precious."

Another kiss, and I was gone.

**-XXXX-**

**This was supposed to be a quick one-shot, a little more light-hearted than my multi-chapter piece I was working on at the same time. But I might add a chapter or two...**

**Thank you for the reviews and feedback!**

**DISCLAIMER: Labyrinth is not mine. **


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